


Birthday Treats and Dreams

by supersoakerx



Category: The Science Room - SNL Sketch
Genre: Alcohol, Birthdays, Clit Play, Daddy Kink, Edging, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kinda, Lingerie, Makeup, Naked Female/Clothed Male, Nipple Play, Older Man/Younger Woman, Orgasm Control, Singing, Woman on Top, a little bit, showering, tobacco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx
Summary: Happy 59th birthday to Daddy! (Professor Zachary Adams)
Relationships: Professor Zachary Adams/Reader, Professor Zachary Adams/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Birthday Treats and Dreams

The ice clinks in his glass of scotch as you pull the mixer tap, turning the shower on, getting the temperature just right.

You flick a look back over your shoulder as the water heats up, just in time to see him snip the end off a fresh Montecristo No. 1 with the new cigar clipper you’d gotten him for his birthday.

He glances up at you from where he sits in the armchair, with one leg crossed over the other. It’s a tall tufted wingback, with generous arm rests and turned, lacquered walnut legs. It’s upholstered in a striking black velvet, and there’s no doubt it’s been re-invented many, many times over the years, with how long this hotel’s been around for.

Zac’s found the ideal spot to position it in, too—angled so he can see into the luxurious bathroom, specifically the shower and large vanity mirror, as well as catch a view of the dressing table, three-panel screen divider, and king-sized bed all at the same time.

“Take your time, babygirl,” he coos to you from his throne, “you know Daddy could watch you all night.”

You slip your cranberry-coloured silk robe, each hem cuffed with delicate lace, just off your shoulders, glancing coquettishly back at him.

Zac leans forward in his seat, smiling and smouldering at you, voice dropping deep as he eyes your bare skin, “that’s it, baby.”

The tiled room starts to heat up, steam wafting and hanging in the air.

You drop your arms to your sides and let the robe fall into a silky puddle on the floor, revealing the back of your naked body to him.

A corner of his mouth ticks up even higher, giving you a devilishly handsome half-smile. He strikes the extra-long Davidoff match and the pure white tip is engulfed in a tiny flame, which he holds just below the foot of the cigar, rotating it to light it gently, carefully, evenly, in the way he’s perfected over the years.

While he lets the cigar burn for a moment, he asks, “did you bring the one I like, with the jasmine?”

“Of course,” you reply easily, fixing your hair up with clips so it doesn’t get wet, “I know it’s your favourite.”

He hums as he leans back in the armchair, murmuring, “that’s my girl.” He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he takes long, slow draws from the cigar, getting a smooth, even heat burning, unravelling every flavour. He winks at you before puffing out the grey smoke and grabbing his tumbler of Glenlivet 18, settling all the way back into the plush chair and crossing his leg again. “Ahh,” he sighs contentedly, “it’s your show now, babygirl. The floor is yours.” He takes another drag and puffs it out through ‘o’ shaped lips.

Over your shoulder you smile sweetly and blow him a kiss, and the hummed little laugh you get from him tells you he’s pleased with that. Very pleased with that.

You step into the pleasantly hot stream of water, sighing as it heats your skin. You keep the shower screen open so he can see, so he can watch, like he likes to do on special occasions like this. You let the water cascade down your back, little streams and rivulets running from your shoulders down to your heels, and you run your hands up and down your sides for his benefit.

You just vaguely catch him murmur something, but you don’t hear it all and he doesn’t repeat it, so maybe it was just for him after all.

You lather up the soap—his favourite—on the little pink shower lily and start to wash your body, sweet-smelling suds forming over your arms and chest and stomach and shoulders. With your back still to him, it’s just to tease him, which he loves.

When you finally turn to face him, your body is covered in soap suds, scents of jasmine, apple blossom and sandalwood filling the steamy air and wafting over to him.

You hear a deep inhale, followed by a long, slow exhale.

You hitch a leg up on the built-in ledge and massage the soapy lily over your shin, calf, thigh and up to your ass cheek, leaving trails of suds and bubbles on your skin while humming an old crooner song to yourself.

You don’t see Zac adjust himself slightly, shifting so his half-hard length has room to grow. He takes a sip of the warm gold, apricot-coloured liquid, letting the citrus and the spice glide along his palate and down his throat as he gazes at your naked, wet, soapy form. Heavenly.

You continue on, slowly and gently soaping up your limbs and letting the warm water wash it all away. You alternate showing him your front, sides, back, occasionally glancing over to catch his eyes glinting in the light, ice clinking in the glass, smoke circling upwards from the ashen white foot of the cigar.

When you’re all squeaky clean, you turn to face him and let the warm rivulets of water run over your skin. You make a show of adding more soap to the lily, and lather it up over just your breasts, keeping your eyes on him.

Zac hums a small, quiet chuckle in response. He places the square-bottomed glass tumbler on the side table, rests it gently on the coaster next to the pack of Davidoffs and crystal ash tray, where his cigar smoulders lazily. He sets both feet on the floor and leans forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. “You’re a little treat, babygirl.”

You tilt your head to the side as you draw the lily over your breasts, concentrating on your tightening, pebbling nipples, and say, “well, it _is_ your birthday, Daddy.”

He laughs again, soft and deep. “That it is, baby.” His smile fades, but his eyes glint, and quietly he rumbles out, “just your hands, now, sweetheart.”

You squeeze all of the soapy suds out of the lily and onto your chest before letting it drop to the tiled floor of the shower, and Zac hums appreciatively. You massage the suds into your skin, circling the swell of your breasts and grazing your fingertips over your nipples, languorous and slow, nerves tingling between your legs. “Like this, Daddy?” you ask, a husky edge to your voice.

“Like that, baby,” he murmurs, resting back in the armchair and ashing the cigar before taking another deep draw from it, watching you.

You smooth the suds over your skin as you play with your breasts for him, squeezing them, pushing them together, and teasing your nipples to full hardness.

“Rinse off, sweetheart,” he says, “show Daddy those pretty tits.”

You do as he says, letting water run over your breasts as you continue to toy with them, saying, “you mean these, Daddy?” as the last of the suds skim down your body.

“Mmm, gorgeous,” he hums, his eyes fixed on your stiff buds and pigmented areolas, his mouth starting to salivate, “pinch ‘em for me.”

He takes a sip of scotch as you pinch your nipples, soft and teasing at first, then harder, rolling them between your fingers as pleasure flickers in your core and you gasp, “Daddy,” staring right into his face.

Zac licks the lingering sweetness from his lips, swallows and says, “you like putting on a show for Daddy, don’t you, babygirl?”

You hum, and say with a smile, “because you like it, dirty old man.”

He chuckles, “I certainly do. Will you get ready for this dirty old man now, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmur, shutting off the tap and stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body and patting yourself just dry enough to slip back into your rich, red, lace-trimmed silk robe.

Zac watches your every move, anticipation making his erection throb insistently even as you clothe your naked body.

You slink past him out of the bathroom with a wink, passing just close and quick enough for him to catch the lingering scent of the jasmine soap on your skin without him being able to reach out and grab you and pull you into his lap.

He’s done it before, but you’re wise to his tricks after all this time.

Zac rests back in the plush, velvet armchair, readying himself for another show as you take your seat at the dressing table, appraising your own face in the mirror. He just loves this next part. Daddy loves to watch.

You start with perfume, two generous spritzes of a delicate floral bouquet with notes of jasmine and rose, complimenting your soap.

Zac inhales deeply. He can’t wait to smell it on your skin. He takes another drag from his cigar.

Next comes skincare, then makeup, then earrings. You follow your routine as you would normally do it, as if he’s not even there—but maybe a little slower, and gentler, and softer, for his benefit. To drag it out and let him watch like he likes.

He loves to watch your fingers glide along your skin, gently massaging serums and lotions onto your face and neck. He loves, too, the tiny flick of your wrist as the mascara wand paints your lashes black. But, his ultimate favourite is when you part your lips and coat them in a pretty, shiny gloss. Today it’s a rich berry pink, which he now notices matches your nail polish, and his heart leaps in his chest.

You clasp dainty pearls to your ear lobes and swivel in your seat to face him. “Almost done, Daddy. Are you ready?” you ask, unclipping your hair and letting it fall free.

Zac eyes you, done up just beautifully, just gorgeous for him as he sucks in air from the cigar, the foot lighting up orange for a moment. Through his smoky exhale he murmurs, “oh, babygirl, I don’t think I’m ever ready for you.”

Beaming, you stand and walk behind the partition, where you’d laid out tonight’s lingerie before he got there. That way, you’d made sure it would be a complete surprise for him.

From behind the privacy screen, as you shrug off your robe and get into your ensemble, you hear Zac, “ _stars shining bright above you_ ,” singing, deep and low and slow and soft, the same song you were humming in the shower. “ _Night breezes seem to whisper-,_ ”

You step out from behind the screen right at that moment, and steal his breath.

“Happy birthday, Daddy,” you breathe into the silence, just above a whisper, leaning seductively on the frame of the partition and giving him your sweetest, sultriest smile.

He’s certain he’s going to melt.

You stand there in a lace teddy in—he should’ve guessed it—a deep, rich berry pink hue. It’s high cut at the hips, with lace demi-cups you’re just shy of falling out of, and which he can see your nipples through.

“God in Heaven,” he mutters under his breath, eyes transfixed on you. You almost don’t hear it, and wonder if he knows he said it aloud. “Come here, babygirl,” Zac says then, louder, at a normal volume, setting aside his cigar and holding out his other hand to you.

You cross the room to him and stand between his confidently spread legs. He takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of your palm. “You’re stunning,” he murmurs into your skin.

A corner of your mouth quirks up. “For you, Daddy.”

He huffs a small laugh and shakes his head, “for everyone, sweetheart,” his tongue darts out to lick his lips, “but Daddy’s the only one who gets to see you like this,” he trails his thumb across your knuckles, “isn’t that right?”

You nod, “that’s right, Daddy. You’re the only one.”

“Mm, that’s my girl,” Zac hums, letting go of your hand, “turn for me, baby.”

You slowly rotate on the spot, his eyes raking over every curve and angle of your body, his breath catching when the full, smooth globes of your ass are revealed to him. “Stop, sweetheart, stop,” he says softly, and you stand in place as his fingertips trail over your cheeks. “My God…” his voice trails off again as he revels in your body, “absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur through a small smile.

“Mm,” he hums, coming out of his own thoughts, “come here, baby, turn back around, let Daddy talk to you.”

You face him and he motions you closer with two fingers.

You take a step closer, your chest just a little above his eye level, but you’re not quite where he wants you yet. He beckons you down this time, and you lean in close. “Yes, Daddy?”

The smell of you is intoxicating, but Zac carries on. He brushes some hair back away from your face and tucks it behind your ear, breathing in your perfume. He leans up close to you, his lips almost grazing the shell of your ear, his hot breath fanning over it as he whispers, “Daddy wants to suck you stiff, babygirl.”

You gasp and make to lean away, but his hand cradles your face, keeps you in place rubbing his thumb along your cheek. “Mmm,” he continues, “suck on my little pearl until it’s hard, and swollen, and sore.”

His words light you up, it’s all you can do to breathe out, “oh, Daddy.”

“Hmm? I’ll make it better, baby,” he presses the softest, lightest kiss just below and behind your earlobe, in that spot that makes your eyes flutter, “Daddy’ll make it better, sweetheart,” he kisses you again, slightly lower, “I promise.”

You let out a shaky sigh and he places a soft, lingering kiss to your jaw. “Be a good girl for Daddy, baby, like I know you will,” he inhales deeply through his nose, “God, you smell incredible.”

“Th-thank you, Daddy,” you manage to get out as your pulse races, your mind already foggy with need for him. “S-so do you,” you murmur, the heady aroma of the cigar mixing with the scotch on his breath—it’s spicy, nutty, woody, but with a kind of sweetness too, like honey or dark chocolate.

Zac chuckles quietly, “stand up, sweetheart,” and when you do his hands instantly find your waist, pulling you close so he can nuzzle his nose and lips into the flesh of your breasts.

Your card your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck, rubbing your fingertips along the base of his skull, and he groans into your chest, “God yes, babygirl.”

His hands trail up your sides to cup and squeeze at your breasts through the soft lace, and he places kisses over your flesh, his whiskers tickling your skin. He inches closer to your right nipple, kissing you through the lace before he wraps his lips around the tight bud and sucks.

You gasp and moan, arching your back and fisting his hair, “Daddy!”

He hums, tugging down the lace and exposing your nipple before gripping it between his thumb and forefinger and gently squeezing, pulling, rolling. He kisses his way across your sternum to your left breast, pulls down the soft demi-cup again and repeatedly flicks the pointed tip of his tongue over your stiff peak.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” you moan as pleasure sparks through your nerves, echoing right in your clit, “mmh, Daddy.”

Zac wraps his plush lips around your nipple and sucks hard, pulling off with an audible pop. He’s starting to pant, his excitement getting to him, but he controls it well. “Let Daddy feel, babygirl.”

You inch your feet apart slightly, give him enough room to slip his hand up between your thighs, like he likes to do.

He gasps when he finds it – or rather, doesn’t find it – his eyes lighting up in sheer delight.

This was the real surprise you’d planned for him. The berry lace teddy had a crotchless design, and it worked a treat: where he expected to find maybe dampened fabric, he found your soft, sweet lips, his fingertips dancing along your wetness.

“Oh, _sweet_ heart,” he coos, as his hard cock aches in his slacks, “will wonders never cease?”

You hum a laugh as he gently teases your folds with practised fingers, “you like it, Daddy?”

“Baby,” he starts, tracing a line up the length of your slit, from your dewy entrance all the way to your clit, flicking across it once, “I love it.”

Your knees buckle and you grip his shoulders, tight, to keep standing, gasping, “Daddy,” in the sudden shock of sensation.

Zac hums, loving when you cling to him any which way, and sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, licking up the little of your nectar he collected there. He smiles at you, cheeky and boyish and so _handsome_ , “the elixir of life.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, the way you always do when he compliments the taste of your cum like that, smiling as you say, “you exaggerate.”

He tilts his head to the side and continues on, unperturbed and grinning, “right here,” he pats high up on your inner thigh, “between my babygirl’s legs.”

You lock eyes with him again, and his face is soberly serious, his eyes deep and dark. He murmurs, “let me live forever tonight.”

You begin to say, “Daddy-,”

“Kiss me, sweetheart.”

You run your hands through his hair, tilting his head back, and lean in to press glossy, berry-stained kisses all over his neck, and he hums. When you get to his ear, you lick up the shell of it with the tip of your tongue, and his hands trail up your sides to cinch your waist.

You kiss back along his jaw until you get to his mouth, his full, pink lips parted, his eyes hooded. “There’s my girl,” he whispers, breathing in your air, and you press small, soft, teasing pecks to his lips, repeatedly, drawing them out longer one by one until he sighs though his nose and his fingers flex on your waist.

When you lick into his mouth, searching his tongue out with your own, he groans. He tastes like sweet tea, and nutmeg.

Your mouths locked, he rises up, standing from his throne to his full towering height. He threads his fingers through your hair, cradling the back of your head as he changes the slant of his mouth over yours and deepens the kiss, drawing a moan from your throat and straight into his mouth.

He walks you back towards the bed, and when your legs meet the plush mattress and he can’t walk you any further he breaks the kiss, panting hot breaths over your face. “Lay back, baby,” he pants, “Daddy wants his present.”

You smile and hop up on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your elbows, your legs dangling off the edge. As you do, Zac pulls his sweater sleeves up to his elbows, then unbuttons his cuffs and shoves them up his arms as well, slipping off his dress shoes at the same time. He spies the slit in your lingerie, your pretty lips on full display while your torso and breasts remain encased in lace.

It makes him hungry. Zac leans over you, draws your lips into another long, hot, passionate kiss, before peppering eager kisses down your neck, chest, breasts, his whiskers tickling your skin. He licks and sucks your nipples into stiff peaks again, laving and lapping at them with the wet flat of his tongue, groaning at the feel of the little buds in his mouth.

You arch your back, pushing your chest into his face as you sigh and moan in pleasure, the desire that had been thrumming through you all evening flaring back up again into fervid arousal.

He trails down lower, skimming down your belly with his nose, until he kneels on the floor between your spread legs—on top of some pillows you’d already set up there for him.

He trails his fingertips along your inner thighs, breathing deep, drawing the scent of your arousal into his lungs. “Nectar of the Gods,” he murmurs, eyes trained on your swollen lips where the light catches on your slick.

A small laugh, more breath than anything, escapes your lips—caught partway between hot embarrassment (even after all this time) and brazen, bare-faced desire for him to eat you.

His gaze flicks up to yours, his eyes dark, fierce, brilliant with want. He starts at one knee, dragging the tip of his nose along your inner thigh until he reaches the crease of it. He blows cool air over your hot core as he passes over it, then plants small, soft kisses down the inside of your other thigh, all the way down to your knee.

Zac does this over and over, relishing your soft skin against his lips and the little goosebumps that flare up over it. He teases you like this, with nose and lips, then tongue and teeth, until you glisten for him, sighing and needy.

He hums, and his voice is deep and devilish when he says, “happy birthday to _me_.”

You don’t have time to respond before he presses his lips to your folds in tender, delicate kisses, gentle and soft, like he could break you.

“Oh, Daddy,” you sigh as he caresses your silky slit with his plush lips. You try not to rock your hips, try to be as still and patient as you can, to let him do as he pleases with your cunt.

Zac notices what you’re doing for him. “Mm, there’s a good girl,” he murmurs into your flesh as he starts another line of kisses up your folds. He gets to the top, and instead of trailing back down again, he presses his lips to your sensitive little bundle of nerves.

You hum and drop flat on your back, unable to hold yourself up any longer, “kiss me again, Daddy.”

He chuckles, a deep, soft, quiet thing, “I plan on it, sweetheart,” and lays gentle kisses on your swelling bud with soft, slightly puckered lips, caressing it with the utmost devotion.

“Oh,” you groan softly, sweetly, “Daddy.”

“Mm, it’s getting bigger, baby,” he murmurs from between your legs.

“Yeahh?” you ask, but it comes out as more of a high, breathy moan.

“Mmhm,” he hums as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks, his tongue pulsing up against the underside of it.

“Daddy!” you moan, “oh yes, _there_.”

“Hmmh,” he hums knowingly, a wry smile crinkling his eyes as he sucks rhythmic pulses on your clit. He rests his hands between your legs, his index fingers slipping into the creases of your thighs to keep your legs open, hold you down.

Then he swirls his hot, wet tongue in circles around your clit, and you cry out shamelessly, clutching the duvet and scrunching it up in your palms, tilting your hips up to find he’s got you, already holding you steady.

“Mmmh, Daddy,” you tilt your head up and look down your belly at him, and his eyes glint and gleam, dark and dangerous.

He murmurs quietly, “Daddy needs to polish his little pearl, baby,” and latches his mouth to your clit again. With his tongue he spells your name on the swollen bud, over and over, so many times he loses count—but his spelling is perfect.

Your thighs twitch in tandem as his tongue licks over your clit at certain that spot, at that certain angle, that electrifies your nerves. Soon, it’s more than you can cope with.

“Daddy, Daddy,” you chant breathlessly, and he leans up, his lips flushed red and even plumper than before.

“Too much, babygirl?”

“Just a little.”

He smiles at you softly, considering something. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, then lifts himself off the ground with a grunt, and drags over the small side table.

Settling back on his knees, strokes across your thigh with his thumb, and with his other hand he takes a small sip of scotch, then a quick puff from the smouldering cigar, inhaling with a satisfied hum. “Ready, baby?”

You nod, small little “mmhm” following.

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Now…” he breathes out the grey smoke, “let’s see what Daddy can do to make you feel better, hmm?” he leans in again and spreads your fleshy outer folds with his thumbs, exposing your lips, drawing them out, peeling them apart.

He kisses and licks at your pussy lips, gently, groaning as he savours the sharp sweetness of your arousal on his tongue. He sucks your lips into his mouth, then nibbles on your folds, gently working over your delicate flesh with his teeth. Soon enough your clit throbs, twitches, needing his attention again and you moan for him.

Zac leans back on his haunches, his eyes raking over your slick, slippery cunt, covered in your cum and his spit. “Better, babygirl?” he asks, raising the tumbler to his lips and grinning wickedly.

“Mm, better Daddy, yes,” you reply, feeling light and hot and tingly all over, nerves firing.

He swallows the spicy, golden sip and sets his glass down with a clink, nodding. “Ahh, good, sweetheart, good,” he settles between your legs again, hooking his arms underneath your thighs to hold you in place, “because I’m not finished playing with my pearl.”

“Daddy!” you gasp and groan as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking with fervour and at the same time flicking his tongue over it repeatedly. “ _OhmyGod_ ,” you whine, your hands flying up to squeeze your breasts as your hips buck in his hold, the rush of stimulation from his mouth sparking the start of your orgasm.

Zac hums around your swollen clit, he’s gotten it so big and hard from all his teasing, and your sweet slick has soaked right through his goatee. As your moans get louder, higher, quicker, he backs off, pressing light, teasing kisses to your clit, gently hushing you, bringing you back down from the brink of release. You hum and sigh and pant softly, “Daddy, _oh Daddy_ , mmm,” as he does it and his swollen cock just aches for you.

When your breathing settles, Zac stands up. “Sweetheart, come help an old man out of his clothes.”

You slowly ease yourself up off the bed, in a foggy, hazy daze of pleasure. Your clit throbs between your legs, pulsing in time with your heartbeat as you lift his crimson cashmere sweater up and off him with trembling fingers. Zac smirks as he unbuttons his dress shirt while your fingers work to undo his belt buckle and slacks: he’s certain if it wasn’t his birthday, you’d be ordering him around all sorts of ways, begging for all kinds of things.

“You’ve been good to me tonight, babygirl,” he says, shrugging out of his shirt.

“It’s your birthday, Daddy. You deserve it.”

He smiles, hums, pleased with your answer. When you’re about to shuck his slacks and boxers down his hips, he lifts your chin with his index finger, gazes into your blown-black eyes and murmurs, “you’re Daddy’s good girl, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you say on an exhale, all breathy and dreamy. You could just melt.

“And you know you’ve made Daddy very hard, don’t you?”

A breathy wisp of a laugh from you, and a husky reply, “I do now,” before you duck your head and press a lingering kiss to his finger, “Daddy.”

One corner of his mouth quirks up in a charming half-smile again. “You’ll let me fiddle with you some more, won’t you, babygirl?”

You trail one hand over the front of his slacks, searching for his erection. “I’m your present, Daddy,” you husk breathily, finding his stiff length and stroking over it with your palm, “you can do whatever you like to me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Zac breathes, eyes heavy-lidded as you palm him, “get back on that bed before you give me a heart attack.”

You hum a sweet laugh, settling back on the mattress but with your feet pulled up onto it, instead of dangling off the edge. You squeeze your knees together and rock them from side to side, playful and teasing as you bite your bottom lip and smile at him. “Like this, Daddy?” you ask him, not for the first time tonight.

“Fuck,” he mutters lowly, more breath than voice. Then louder, “you _are_ a little treat, aren’t you?”

“You tell me, Daddy,” you coo, and in an instant his hands dart out to grab your oscillating legs, halting their sway.

He presses soft kisses to your knees, then eases your legs apart slowly, manoeuvring them into the position they were before. “Mm, a real peach,” he hums, eyeing your glistening core with a gaze ravenous, as if he hasn’t just tongued your clit for the better part of—how long has it been? All night?

Zac holds your legs apart with a firm grip on the back of your knees, positioning himself between them. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he leans in, blows another ribbon of cool air up and down your hot, puffy, swollen lips, making a shiver rack up your spine.

His gaze flicks down between your legs again. He brings a hand to your core and spreads your folds apart with his thumb and index finger, exposing your engorged, hooded clit, all for himself.

“There she is,” he mutters quietly, almost to himself, “sweet little pearl,” and sucks your clit into his mouth, lolling his tongue around it.

“ _Oh Daddy_ ,” you moan, your clit throbbing on his tongue, slick seeping from your hole.

He hums a chuckle, puckers his pink lips and gently bobs his mouth on your stiff bud, sweet little drags and passes of his lips back and forth along your clit.

You curse and moan, pleasure racing through your limbs, right to your fingers and toes, “that feels so good, Daddy.”

“Mmmhh,” he hums lowly with your clit in his mouth: he knows it does. But he can’t withstand it any longer. Zac shoves his free hand into his boxers and wrenches free his aching cock, making a fist around the head and tugging it time with the passes of his lips on your clit.

“Ommffuh,” he groans around your stiff bud, and your legs start to tremble again.

“ _Daddy_ ,” you moan, deep from the back of your throat, pleasure arcing up your back like electricity.

Changing tact, ever so gently, slowly, delicately, Zac strokes across your clit with his front teeth, flicking the tip of his tongue against it, and you whine for him.

He huffs hot breaths over your flesh before he closes his lips around your bud, his nose pressed into your mound, sucking and nibbling and licking your clit like his life depends on it. Both his hands come up to cradle your ass cheeks, anchoring your cunt to his face as he grunts into it.

“Hmmnnh, D _ahh_ -fuck, _Daddy_ ,” you keen, his mouth alone bringing you to the edge of orgasm again, “ _please_ yes, God _yes_ , I-,”

“Mmmmh,” he hums into your flesh as you fist your fingers in his silky soft salt-and-pepper locks, holding him in place. Then, and you should have seen this coming-

“Aahh,” Zac releases your clit from his lips, coming up for air, and your whole body undulates with the fiery flickering in your nerves.

“Daddy,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. You’d done so well, been so good for him, but now, “please.”

He grins, like the cat that got the cream, “there’s my girl. I was wondering when I was gonna hear the ‘p’ word from you.”

You laugh, but it comes out like a whimper.

“Aww, sweetheart,” Zac coos, spreading your pussy lips again, “you know I’m gonna take care of you,” he presses a chaste kiss to your pulsing clit, “Daddy always takes of his babygirl.”

“I know, Daddy,” you pant, the truth of his words ringing through your haze of pleasure, “I know, I just— _ohh!_ ”

He’s gently, slowly rolling your clit between his thumb and index finger now. “You what, baby? Tell Daddy.”

You hum out a moan for him, biting down on your bottom lip and trying to keep your eyes open as your hips rock onto his hand of their own volition.

“Mmm, I knowww,” he croons, “it’s so hard now, your little clit. So stiff, babygirl-,”

You throw your head back against the mattress, your hands fisting the soft duvet again, trying to keep a grip on reality.

“-just how Daddy likes it.”

You cry out a curse, pleasure pooling and mounting deep down in your gut.

Zac hums, stretching out your folds, and instead of rolling them he places his thumb and index finger on either side of your stiff wet clit: not pinching but just, _holding_ , firm and secure, and nestling the digits right down to the very root of it.

“Daddy?” you ask, your pulse thudding in your ears, throat, fingers, every muscle in your body clenched tight for whatever he was planning next.

“Trust me, baby,” is all he says, before he glides the pads of his fingers along your clit hood, right from root to tip, and back, along, and back, again, and again, and again.

“Daddy!” it’s a strangled cry, ripped from your throat, “fuck!” The sensation is entirely surreal, any and all other words failing you. Zac pulls every ounce of pleasure from what must be almost every single nerve ending in your clit—it’s divine, it’s ungodly, all at the same, and your orgasm just about sneaks up on you.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you rush out in a single gasped breath: a warning, in case he’s not done playing yet. “Daddy,” it’s a choked, high squeak, “I, I’m-,”

He pauses his digits, rests them at the base of your clit. “Did you like that, babygirl?” he asks through a smirk, knowing the answer full well. He can feel subtle little throbs of your swollen bud between his fingers.

“So much,” you pant, “too much, Daddy.”

Zac chuckles, “that’s my girl,” and gently eases his hold on your clit. “Now shuffle back, sweetheart. I’ve gotta get my cock inside your dripping pussy-,”

With shaky arms and legs you scoot up the bed a little ways, giving him room to join you on the mattress.

“-gotta feel you cum on my cock.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmur as you settle back on the bed, pulling a pillow under your head, “please.”

He stands—easing his slacks and boxers down his legs, leaning one hand on the mattress while the other slips off his socks—and you get the first good look at him you’ve had all night.

Zac, he has a lithe body. He definitely took care of himself in his younger years, and it showed: he was rewarded for it now. Lean but defined muscles in his arms and thighs and chest, his skin not as trim and taut as it used to be, but near enough to, and exceptional for someone in their fifth, almost sixth decade of life. Silvery grey hairs pepper the centre of his chest, and trickle down from beneath his belly button to a neat, light, sparse little patch around his generous endowment. His cock is slightly on the thinner side, but it’s _long_ , curved upward and slightly to the right, silky smooth to the touch and flushed with pure desire for you. What’s more, after fifty-nine years on the planet, Zac is a man who knows how to use it.

He crawls up towards you, the mattress dipping with his weight. “Are you ready, babygirl?”

You nod, looking into his deep brown eyes as he leans over you. “For you, Daddy? Always.”

“God, you’re a dream,” he murmurs before he crushes his lips to yours in a searing kiss, groaning when your tongues slip and slide and swirl together.

You kick your legs up and around him, caging him in and pulling your lower halves flush together. You card your fingers through his hair, and he rolls his swollen length along your hot, slippery folds, slicking up the underside of it.

He breaks the kiss, huffing breaths, “Mm, baby, I can’t wait any longer.”

“Don’t,” you whisper back, and he kisses you again, softer but deeper, deliberate, intentional, as he holds his weight up on one hand and with the other, he seeks your entrance with the head of his cock.

When he finds it, his cockhead dips inside you, and you both gasp, taking in each other’s hot air.

“Shit,” Zac hisses as he breaches your drenched hole, slowly sinking in deeper. “So fucking tight, sweetheart, Jesus.”

“Daddy,” you keen, “please, please, fill me up.”

“ _God_ damn it,” he huffs, dropping his head down into the crook of your neck. “I will, baby, I will, you’ll get— _fuuck_ —every inch of Daddy’s cock.” Zac knows he’s got to be careful with you here, and he’s trying so hard to gently ease his cock inside you slowly, but, “Jesus Christ,” you make it difficult for him. Gripping onto his cock like a vice, your pussy walls fluttering around him, your breathy words and sighs and pleas ringing in his ears.

He pants hot breaths onto your neck, “fuck, baby… shit,” when he feels he can’t push any further, but he’s not all the way inside you yet.

He withdraws, almost all the way out but not quite, and sinks his stiff length into your soft tight wet heat again, huffing, “take me, babygirl, just relax and take my cock.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan, too keyed up, too excited for him to finally fuck you, “I’ll take your big cock, Daddy, please, I want it.”

“Ah, shit,” he mutters, a smile you can’t see playing on his features. He loves when you talk to him like that. He kisses and sucks the delicate skin of your neck and says, “how much, baby? Tell Daddy how much.”

“Ohh,” you moan, as he doesn’t let up the roll of his hips, slowly fucking his last two inches into you, “so much, so bad, Daddy. I wanted you inside me all night, all day, _aahh_ -all yesterday, I missed you Daddy, missed your big dick-,”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groans, fully sheathing his cock inside you, buried to the hilt inside your hot tight pussy. “Christ I love your tight little cunt.”

“Mmmh, Daddy,” you hum, tilting your hips and clenching on him.

“Always so _fucking_ wet for me.”

You whimper, breathless, “please fuck me, Daddy, please, do it.”

“Daddy can feel your little heartbeat, babygirl.”

“Fuck, _Daddy!_ ” you groan, stuffed full of him and needing friction, needing _something_ as your clit begs for his touch, feeling like you’re going to combust if he doesn’t. “I need you.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” he leans up away from your neck, holding himself up on two strong arms. He slowly withdraws his cock, then sinks all of it all the way back in, and as he does he says, “I know, baby. I know you need Daddy to make it better.”

“Please, yes,” you grip his upper arms, “Daddy, _yes_.”

“And what about your little clit, hmm? Is that sore, sweetheart? Does it ache, babygirl?”

Blazing hot pleasure races through your body. Maybe he’ll let you cum now. “Mmm, ‘s sore, Daddy, make it better, please, _please_.”

He sits up off you, fully seated inside you, and grips your swollen bud between his thumb and forefinger again.

You gasp, sigh, tilt your hips to try to get him to move some. _Please please please._

A roguish smirk crosses his face. “You want this, too, baby?” he asks as he slowly rocks his hips, shallowly thrusting in and out of your tight wet hole.

You hum and nod eagerly, go to say something more, but then-

Zac rolls your clit between his fingers, slowly, gently, delicately wringing out every nerve for everything it’s worth.

It’s too much, you can’t even speak. Gasping, your eyes roll up into your head and Zac’s mouth drops open in a deep groan, your pussy fluttering and seizing around him.

You can’t stop it, and he doesn’t want you to. “Do it, babygirl. Show Daddy how good you cum on his cock.” It’s rising, cresting as Zac pumps slow, languid rolls of his hips, filling you with his cock, while his fingers roll your stiff clit.

And after this long, that’s all it takes.

“ _Daddy!_ ” you damn near sob, your orgasm shattering over you, waves of hot ecstasy flooding your body right down to your bones, blanking out your mind to any other feeling but _this_ sweet release.

“Fuh-cking-God,” Zac groans as he fucks you through it, keeping his fingers tight to your clit, feeling it pulse and throb and twitch as you cum, your pussy walls spasming and clenching on him. “That’s it, baby. _Fuck_ , you’re my good girl. You’re Daddy’s good girl, _that’s_ it…”

Soon, after the tremors and the waves subside and your mind comes back to you: you can’t, you just can’t handle it anymore, and Zac knows it. He gently releases your hyper-sensitive clit and slows his thrusts, leaning over you again to kiss away the tiny little pleasure-tears that escaped your eyes. “Beautiful, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, “just beautiful… miracle girl.”

You whimper, catching your breath, “thank you, Daddy,” and run your fingertips up his back, resting your hands on his shoulder blades as you cinch your legs around him tighter.

It’s perfect, actually, for what he wants to do next.

Zac snakes his arms under you, grips you tight and flips you both over. With a moment or two of giggles to adjust, you now sit proudly on top of him and his gorgeous hair fans out across the crisp white hotel pillow.

He cradles the back of your neck and pulls you down to meet his lips in a soft, tender kiss. It’s slow, would be almost exploratory, if you didn’t know each other so well. You moan into it, and Zac groans when he feels your pussy clench on his stone-hard cock.

“Ride me, babygirl,” he murmurs into your mouth, “you do it so well, do it for me now.”

You breathe back to him, “yes, Daddy,” and start to rock your hips against his, leaning up and bracing yourself on his chest.

It pushes your breasts together, showing off your cleavage as you lift and drop your hips, dragging your sopping cunt up and down his throbbing dick.

“Ffuuuck yes, baby,” his head lolls back and his eyes flutter closed, “just like that.”

You can’t help yourself. “Like this, Daddy? Ride you like this?” you ask as you grind and bounce on him.

Zac blinks his eyes open, and the sight of you above him almost has him shooting his load into you then and there. He groans, “Shiiit, babygirl, you’re so fucking good to me,” he gropes your breasts, tugs one free from where it slipped back into the lace in your tussle, and tweaks your nipples, “you fuck me so good, you’re so good to Daddy.”

“Fuck,” you huff out, the tingles of another orgasm flickering and firing in your core.

“Aahhsh-shit,” Zac groans, feeling your pussy walls clench around his cock. He bends his legs at the knees, plants his feet firmly on the mattress, and with the leverage, fucks up into your cunt.

You moan, shrill and loud, almost like a squeal, and Zac chants, “fuck-yes-fuck-yes,” with every thrust up to meet your bouncing hips mid-descent.

Your skin slaps together, and the added friction has his cockhead rubbing up against your g-spot, making you see stars. “Hnnmmmh, _fuck_ , Daddy-,”

“Yeah, baby,” he grunts.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you moan, chant, pray as you chase each other’s release.

Zac grits his teeth, grunting and groaning, keeps one hand flicking and rolling and tugging your nipple while the other slips down between your bodies, “be my good girl, sweetheart,” positioning it so you can grind your clit on his thumb. “You can cum again for me, you can do it. For me, for Daddy, babygirl.”

You moan out a string of curses as you bounce up and down on his cock, feel him meet you halfway with every thrust, and rub your clit against his thick digit. “I can, I can,” you pant, “gonna cum all over you, Daddy.”

Your pussy clamps down tight on him, and a shudder rips through Zac’s whole body. Your rhythm goes staccato—your moans too—but you try to keep going, try to make it good and fucking _great_ for him as your orgasm creeps up on you. But all you can think about is his cock filling you and your clit repeatedly nudging along his thumb.

“Ohhff- _fuck_ , baby,” Zac groans, “you’re gonna make Daddy cum. Don’t fucking stop, babygirl. _Fuck_ I love this pussy, shit yes, _shit!_ ”

A half-second before it crashes down on you, you belt out, “I’m cumming, Daddy!” in a high, quick moan, and a gravelly, ragged groan of, “yyeess,” is all you hear before you’re screaming, cunt spasming, cumming all over Zac’s cock for the second time.

Not a moment later his orgasm rips through him, tearing him to shreds as your slick, convulsing pussy massages all his cum from him. He grunts, groans, growls, howls your name as he cums, stuffing your cunt with strings and lines and cords and ropes of cum: thick, sticky, creamy white, as you bounce on him erratically, fucking him through it and wringing out every last second of it for him.

When neither of you can move, or fuck, or cum anymore, you collapse into him.

Zac wraps his arms around you, pulls you in close to his chest. You’re breathing together, heartbeats syncing as his cock softens inside you and your combined cum seeps down it. You lay like that, together, for a few moments, or minutes, or who knows how long: breathing and resting and sated.

A small little sound brings you gently out of your haze. You settle your breathing, and listen.

You hear him softly crooning the song from earlier, now partway through a line, “ _-til sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_.” It rumbles through his chest.

You nestle in somehow closer to him, and press a kiss to his chest before laying your ear over his heart, closing your eyes and enjoying him.

Zac smiles down at the top of your head and grips you tighter in his arms, huskily warbling out the next lines, “ _But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Some bits in here are inspired by 'Off to the Races' by Lana del Rey, and the song these two sweethearts sing to each other is 'Dream a Little Dream of Me' by either: Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong, Dean Martin, or Doris Day.  
> P.S., it's my birthday and we all get a present! x


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